


Secura Family Shorts

by Firecadet



Series: Firecadet Soft Wars stories [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Parenthood, Slice of Life, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29158740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firecadet/pseuds/Firecadet
Summary: A series of short stories, featuring Aayla Secura, Bly, and their definitely-not-a-daughter Maris Brood, set in the Soft Wars universe.
Relationships: CC-5052 | Bly & Maris Brood & Aayla Secura, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura
Series: Firecadet Soft Wars stories [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1986859
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

In the fog halfway between sleep and consciousness, Maris Brood, Jedi Padawan, suddenly heard her master scream, as if she was in agony. An instant later, a rush of sensations rippled down their training bond, shock-pain-discomfort... and then the sensations stopped as if someone had just cut the bond with a vibroknife.

She jumped out of bed, hauling her tunic on with the Force as she scrambled for her lightsabers, before sprinting in the direction of her Master's quarters. The door wasn't locked, and she burst through it, before suddenly being engulfed in what smelt and tasted like her master's outer robe. Before the robe arrived, she got a confused sense of blue and gold and human skin mingled together.

"Maris!" Aayla Secura said, using a tone of authority borrowed from creche-masters and youngling instructors. "Do not remove that robe. Turn around, walk out of the door, close it behind you, and wait for me in the Command Lounge."

Practically on autopilot, the zabrak obeyed her master, and was five steps out of the now closed door when she finally thought about pulling off the robe.

She headed for the command lounge as instructed, settling into a seat next to the holodisplay unit, and waiting, pondering the situation.

Aayla entered three minutes or so later, wearing her tunic and leggings.

"I imagine you have questions."

"Erm... were you and Commander Bly... you know... erm..."

"Having sex?" Aayla completed for her Padawan, whose normally plastoid-white skin was gradually getting redder and redder.

"That." Maris almost squeaked. "I mean... I know they gave me the talk and everything..."

"But you don't expect to walk in on two authority figures having sex. Or feel it down a force bond."

Maris silently nodded, her face red enough that Aayla was almost wondering if she was about to spontaneously combust.

"Maris, it's completely reasonable to feel this way."

Maris, still flushing, managed to find her voice this time. "What will you give me not to tell Master Vos?"

Aayla laughed at that. "I know that Ahsoka is basically Skywalker and Kenobi's padawan at times, but you are definitely not Master Vos' padawan as well as mine."

Maris looked slightly confused.

"If you were being trained by that disreputable, lying, manipulative piece of work, you would have made sure, before making such a threat, that no recordings of the karaoke session after we finished on Felucia had been made."

Maris cringed. After several mugs of Mandalorian Ale, she'd decided that she wanted to do karaoke. She could vaguely remember having selected an Iridonian thrash metal song, which included a number of words and phrases that she probably shouldn't have known, never mind shouted into a hangar full of drunken clones.

"If Vos even hints that you've even indirectly hinted anything about me and Bly to him, that video goes on the GAR intranet."

Maris simply looked incredibly crestfallen.

"What I will promise is that, if you can keep this secret, I'll keep any of yours that you need me to."

Maris briefly probed her Master with force empathy, concluding that she was being genuine. "I'll take that deal, Master. Particularly if you can get me a VIP pass for a Koda concert."

Aayla grinned, remembering that Koda was, currently, the most popular teen idol on Iridonia. "I think I can arrange that. Every Padawan should get to sin a little."

"Master!"


	2. Chapter 2

"General Secura to the training facility. General Secura to the training facility. Karking hurry. Thank you."

Putting down her datapad, Aayla sprang out of her seat. She'd been able to feel the sensations of a training session against droids, and a growing frustration, as if her Padawan was repeating the same situation over and over again. The concern in the voice of whichever vod had called it in was distinguishable even over the intercom. Reaching out with the Force, Aayla sensed the sort of frustration and anger that normally resulted in a training salle having to be refurbished from her Padawan, and could feel the edge of it filtering into their training bond.

When she arrived at the training room, she saw a situation below her that almost broke her heart. A squad's worth of the droids used to represent clones were defending a recreation of a dugout. A near overwhelming force of CIS droids, or at least the replicas used in Clone and Jedi training, were advancing from three sides. It was exactly the situation Maris had found herself in a week earlier. She heard the textbook call for air support, and then watched as her Padawan blurred into action, spiraling through a hail of blaster bolts, deflecting or intercepting every bolt that threatened a clone. For a Padawan with her level of training, it was extremely impressive. But the shots kept coming, as Maris fought to shield everyone in her position.

And then a bolt snuck through her guard. Then another. And then a third shot. Three of the droids representing clones went down, including the one with a Captain's flashes on his helmet.

In the actual engagement, Maris had been trying to shield a squad as well, the command element of her own Horn Company. Only three of them had survived. The rest, including the Captain, who'd taken the name Las, had been cut down by the nearly overwhelming and relentless droid advance.

As she watched, suddenly, the droids dropped en-mass, as if their strings had been cut. In the actual engagement, that had been a flight of V-wings, making a devastating firing pass that had cleared the surroundings long enough for Maris and the three survivors to fall back.

Aayla had no hesitation as to what to do next. Punching in her command override, she ended the simulation before Maris could replay it again. She watched as her Padawan slumped to the floor, before hurrying out of the observation booth to engulf her Padawan with a large hug.

"It's ok, Maris. It's ok." Aayla comforted. "It's not your fault."

"I chose that position." Maris sobbed. "I chose it. And they died because I couldn't protect them."

Aayla remembered the AAR. Bly had gone over it with her at the time. "Maris, I would have chosen exactly the same position. So would Bly. It was the best option. You could not have predicted that the mineshaft we all thought was secure had a huge number of droids in it. And your company held them back. You kept them from breaking through."

"I lost twenty clones." Maris sobbed. "I knew all of their names... Tint wanted to try landscape painting when the war was over. Sharp was always making silly jokes..."

"I know, Maris." Aayla just held the zabrak as the tears rolled down her face, gently patting her on the back as Maris cried into her tunic. "You did the best job you could have done. You didn't fail any of your dead."

"But they're still dead... because I chose to put my position there."

"124 of them aren't. Because of how well you chose that position. If you'd chosen the other option, you'd have been overrun, not held the line with such low casualties."

"Low?"

"Low. You could easily have lost every single clone's life and your own life in that situation, if you hadn't chosen that position. You saved nearly all of them, Maris."

"But..."

Aayla cut her off. "Commander Brood, you are relieved of your current duty." She told Maris. "Your new duty, for the remainder of the day, is to assist myself and Commander Bly with a suitability review of some recently released entertainment holos, while we help you come to terms with everything that happened on Lekctrum."

"Thank you, Master."


	3. Chapter 3

Bly was about to begin his sleep cycle when he heard the sobbing. The register severely limited the number of people it could be. Although there were a number of females in the bridge and ship crew, very few of them had access to this particular part of the ship. Most of them lived around their own mess, three decks deeper into the core of the ship. He knew it wasn't Aayla, who he'd left curled up in their quarters, and Galahad practically lived in Medbay.

He cautiously glanced around the corner. Maris, despite being a Jedi, a form of upbringing usually that left you with fewer issues of body-consciousness than clone training, was at an age where virtually any nat-born was at their most sensitive. He winced. One of the 327th's pilots had made a crude remark about her in her hearing, along with several members of Horn company. He'd been found with painful, embarrassing and well-placed injuries that still left him able to perform his duties unimpaired.

To his relief, Maris was wearing a tankini in the shower. What set his protective senses into a higher state of alert was the metallic twist of blood he could smell on the spray. She was slumped on the floor, scrubbing at her head, and sobbing.

He moved in, making sure she could see him coming. Jedi startle reflexes could be painful for the startler. She relaxed slightly on seeing him, before grabbing at a bottle containing what looked like some sort of green slime, and rubbing it onto her scalp.

"Why are you bleeding?" He rumbled.

"My horns." Maris groaned. "They're growing... which means that... some of the skin over them gets torn. And it's really uncomfortable."

Bly took a rather closer look at the Zabrak's scalp, noticing a number of what looked like scratch marks. To his relief, there was no sign of muscle tissue or bone at the bottom of them.

"Is there anything that helps?"

Maris held up the bottle.

Bly read the label. It contained assorted herbs, but nothing he would have associated with a analgesic effect, even in Zabraks.

"What about bacta gel?" He asked.

"Doesn't work. Or your horn doesn't grow properly, or it grows crooked, or you end up with scar tissue around the base of the horns..."

Bly held his fire as she continued.

"I... can't use bacta. This stuff is supposed to work... but it doesn't make anything stop itching or throbbing... I don't know if it will stop, or if I can cope..." a couple of tears rolled down her face. "I just want it to stop hurting."

Bly couldn't help the almost core reflex to do what he did next. He reached out and wrapped an arm around Maris, pulling her close, giving her a hug and projecting reassurance.

"We'll go to Galahad. She's probably got something that will help. Or a way of getting the balm to work better."

As they headed out of the shower room, Maris muttered something under her breath, almost too quietly for Bly to hear.

"Thanks, Buir."


End file.
